


Unexpected . . . But Not Unwelcome

by Godspeed_Cowboy



Series: Respectful [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Back and Fourth, But Only a Little Bit - Freeform, Comedy, Comedy of Errors, Crack, Food, Funny, Gen, Gift Giving, Haruno Sakura is So Done, Haruno Sakura-centric, Haunted Houses, I made things up as I went along, Language, Mild Language, Offerings, One Shot, POV Haruno Sakura, Prayer, Rain, Rated T for language, Sakura is anxious, Sort Of, Spirits, Storms, and I have a vague understanding of japanese culture, but she's a but of a jock so it's okay, how Sakura avoids the Shinigami by being really respectful: a novel, i tried to be respectful as possible when writing this, kind and stupid can get you far in life if you try hard enough, or if it's offensive, please lmk and I'll fix it right away, respect, she's also a little stupid, shrines, so i'm unsure if it is or isn't, so please let me know if I wrote one part in particular wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25948051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Godspeed_Cowboy/pseuds/Godspeed_Cowboy
Summary: Sakura seeks shelter from the rain and gets a little more than she bargained for. Good thing her Mother taught her well.
Relationships: None
Series: Respectful [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883266
Comments: 23
Kudos: 159





	Unexpected . . . But Not Unwelcome

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little comedy to keep you guys fed while I work on the next chapters to Blood/Water and Drunk as a Skunk! This is gonna be a part of a little series where Sakura keeps encountering strange happenings with clans and comes out on top by being very respectful, partly because she's kind and partly because she's anxious. Enjoy!
> 
> Twitter: @YeehawMitski

The rain pours down as she runs, ducked down, holding her flimsy jacket above her head and her zipped up, heavy grocery bag bouncing against her hip. 

Sakura had been out shopping when the storm began. She’d thought she’d be able to beat it and be back home by the time it would start, but it looks like she terribly misjudged it or it came earlier than predicted. Because now, she was getting soaked to the bone as the wind blew right through her. She swears. Curse Konoha’s rainy days.

The worst part about the rain is that, in the village, you had a hard time seeing through it. And currently, Sakura has absolutely no idea where she was going, just trying to find shelter that wasn’t locked up already. The wind howls loudly as it pushes against her harder from behind. She swears again.

And then, an archway appears before her, in the distance. She comes to stop, slowly, and the wind calms down for a moment before picking back up, trying to sweep her off her feet. 

The archway is a dull color, yellow and brown, with cracks in it’s stone. Attached to its sides, walls with shingles on top. Beneath them are beds of flowers, though they look wilted, dying. Crawling up the archway, vines, brown and limp, though not plentiful. Her eyes follow their trail.

Resting in the center of the archway’s tallest point . . .

A faded, chipped Uchiwa. Sakura gasps.

Somehow, she’s found her way to the _Uchiha Compound_ instead of the cheap civilian apartment. And that means . . .

She turns around, looks, and sure enough, in the distance and incredibly hard to see, the shops she ran past. The border between the marketplace and the land that belonged to Uchiha. She swallows the lump in her throat. 

Well, maybe she can find shelter in there, in the Uchihas’ long dead home? It’s abandoned after all. No one would turn her away because nobody can. And she’s running out of options. If she stays out here too long, she’ll catch a cold. A huff leaves her. 

Well, it looks like she doesn’t have much of a choice.

Carefully, slowly, she walks towards it. Somehow, it feels more like it's approaching her rather than the other way around. Is she starting to . . . sweat? Or is that just rain? It’s hard to tell at this point. 

As soon as she passes through, a shiver comes from nowhere and racks her entire body and the wind blows so hard that she nearly falls face first into the muddy path. 

Perhaps she’s made a small mistake but it’s already too late to turn back now. So, with butterflies in her stomach, Sakura powers through and picks up her running pace again. 

To her sides, she can see houses, though they look a little too run down. So she passes them by, because she doesn’t want to risk accidentally falling through a rotting floor board or a chunk of ceiling landing on her head and knocking her out. That would be _awful_. So she keeps running and the rain comes down harder and makes everything difficult to see.

And then it’s like a wall appears _right in front of her_ so _suddenly_ and she ends up slamming into it. _Hard_. And turns out it’s actually a door, because it gives under her weight and swings open. It hits the wall inside with a bang as she hits the hardwood floors with a thud, kicking up a heavy layer of dust, nearly obstructing her vision. No one’s been here in a long time. Sakura groans out in pain. That hurt like a mothefucker.

Slowly, she pushes herself up, backwards, her legs sprawled out in front of her and her arms acting as support to keep her from falling back. A strand of hair falls in her face and she blows it out of the way. The wind blows in from the open door behind her, the dust following and settling.

For one, the room is dark, the only light coming from the door and fading as the clouds slowly darken. From what she can tell, it’s big and empty, like a lobby. Further into the room, two staircases, one left and one right, leading up into darkness, the second floor, with a balcony between them and stretching across all four walls. Periodically spaced at the highest points, windows with little sunroofs, open, and the breeze blows in from above with the sound of rain following. It’s incredibly spacious and cool. And there, in the center of the stairs, the balcony between them, on the wall that’s the center of everything . . .

A . . . a shrine? Oh. _Oh_. Oh, she _needs_ to be respectful here, her mother’s taught her that much. Taught her that she must be respectful towards the clans, towards their _practices_. 

Sakura stands quickly, the blood rushing from her head at the speed of it, leaving her bag and jacket on the floor, and she scrambles to close the door, a steady puddle of water beginning to grow in front of it. Oh, she’ll have to clean that up, won’t she? Yeah, that would be appropriate here, she thinks. Oh, she feels like a fool already, making a mess in a place like this. Ugh.

The door, one of two it turns out, is heavy and hard to push, but it shuts with some effort and a loud creak, and she’s plunged into darkness. For only a few seconds that is.

Several ‘woosh’ sounds fill the air, and suddenly there’s light, and it makes her move like a cat who just got scared by a loud noise, her back to the door and her chest heaving from the scare.

There’s torches on the walls, five for each, and the fires of them crackle peacefully. 

How? How on earth? How did- oh, never mind.

Her question is answered by seeing the seals behind the torches. She must’ve activated them . . . somehow. They look old, outdated, so maybe that’s why it took them a minute to light up? They’re probably the kind that are turned on by someone entering the room. Huh. Neat.

A minute goes by, waiting for her heart to calm down, and when it does, she looks at the shrine.

The most prominent feature of it, the bronze statue at its center. A man by the looks of it, dressed from the Edo Period, his face covered with a bird mask and a long pipe in his hand, the tip at the beak. Beneath the statue, an empty incense holder on the far side of a small red table with a drawer, a coin box on top. Surrounding the statue, candles, shelves, ropes, unlit lanterns, and marked papers. 

She knows what she has to do.

Bringing her bag with her and settling in front of the table on her knees, Sakura opens the drawer. As predicted, incense sticks and a box of matches. Perfect.

She sets up the incense, lights it after a few failed tries, and lights the candles and lanterns. There. She digs around in her pocket . . . aha! A coin! Perfect! She drops it into the box.

Once, twice, she bows. Once, twice, she claps her hands. And begins her prayer. 

“Sorry for intruding. I ask that you let me stay here with you until the rain passes. In return, I offer you something from my grocery bag. Please and thank you.”

She bows once more, her prayer done. And then she opens her bag.

It takes her minute to find something she doesn’t really need, rather she bought it as a treat, but she does find it. A package of dango. Perfect! But she’ll miss it. Oh well. It’ll always be in her heart . . .

She places it in front of the table, her work done.

Outside or in the distance, she can’t tell, she hears what sounds like bells or wind chimes. A shiver worms it’s way up her spine as she turns to look at the door.

Sakura is by no means superstitious or religious, but that sound she heard carried something with it. Good or bad, that was hard to tell. She’ll stick with ‘Good’ and hope for the best. 

A few hours later, after she managed to find a rag in a closet and clean up her puddles, the rain, now a storm, still hasn’t let up. It’s only worsened and she fears she’ll have to stay the night.

Oh man. She’ll probably be late to work tomorrow. This sucks! 

But there isn’t anything she can do about it. She makes a face at that thought. 

Looks like she’ll have to settle in for the night, she’s getting tired, a drowsy feeling settling in her and making her feel beyond exhausted. 

Sakura grabs her jacket from the floor where she spread it out to dry, and grimaces as she sees that she’s managed to make it dirtier, the dust- and dirt it looks like, ew -stuck to it from the water. Oh well. She rolls it up into a flimsy, floppy ball. Then she gets her bag, positions it so the zipper faces her, and puts the jacket on top. A makeshift pillow to prop her head up. And then she plops her head down on it, her nose tickles by the little cloud it brings up, and she almost sneezes. Wow, this layer of dust is _so_ comfortable to sleep on, just _great_ really.

Her eyes flutter once, twice, and then she’s out like a light. The last thing she hears is something like bells and wind chimes and one last shiver finds its way into her body. 

Sakura wakes up with a sound akin to a zombie’s moan. And she wakes up . . . confused. Because one, there’s a weight on her. Two, it’s warm and very comfortable and she doesn’t want to say anything but she has to because she remembers going to bed in nothing but her now damp clothes, a t-shirt with shorts and sneakers. And waking up with something on her that wasn’t before is _certainly_ something she should be concerned about. And three, there’s something very soft under her head, a pillow it feels like.

She sighs and sits up, slowly. Something heavy falls from her shoulders into her lap as she rubs her eyes, vision blurry. Huh. Whatever it is, it feels soft, comfortable. Outside, she can hear the faint sound of rain, the storm finally ending it looks like.

Vision finally cleared, she looks down and sees just what’s been keeping her warm.

It’s a . . . a . . . jacket? Yeah, yeah, a jacket. It’s tan, a rough and slick fabric on the outside that shine’s slightly in the dim lighting, the torches out and replaced with whatever came from the windows. And it’s got plenty of pockets, deep pockets with black buttons. On the inside, it’s softer fabric, one meant to insulate heat, fuzzy and dark blue, and at the neck of it, a small red and white thread Uchiwa sewn into it. It’s got a hood with drawstrings, too.

The question is, who put it on her?

To her right, she hears a deep chuckle, no, _several_ chuckles from _many_ different people, faint and hard to hear, but she catches it just in time. Her head whips to the side. 

The statue stares back at her, as unlively as a non-sentient thing is. The only difference now is that there’s smoke coming steadily from the pipe and the dango pack she left is empty, the wrapper torn and the sticks inside left neatly in what little plastic packaging was left. She swallows and looks back at the jacket, unease settling in her stomach at the sight.

She’s been given a gift in return for her respect. And . . . it looks expensive.

. . . Yeah, no. She can’t accept this. It’s too much. And the anxious part of her is crying out at the thought of getting something in return for basic decency. 

After a moment, she stands, making her way over to the shrine, and putting it down as neatly as she can. A yawn fights it’s way up her throat and she pushes it down. She smiles sweetly at the statue to cover up her nervousness.

“Thank you for the gift!” she says, “Unfortunately, I can’t accept this! But, again, thank you!”

Well, that went over . . . well enough. Considering there’s some supernatural thing going on with it. She gathers her bag and her jacket as quick as she can, eager to leave after the spook, her unease only growing as it begins to feel like there’s eyes looking at her.

Sakura marches to the door, opens it, expects this to the end of it, ready to walk back out into the rain.

Before she can even take a step past the threshold, something hits her back and falls over her face and she almost flips her shit.

After a few struggling seconds, she’s able to pull whatever it is into her arms and it’s . . . it’s the jacket. How. How the fuck. _What_ the fuck.

Slowly, very slowly, she turns around to make sure she isn’t hallucinating and yep, the jacket is most certainly not where she left it. It feels like a heavy weight in her arms. She swallows. The statue seems to be a bit more intimidating now. And it feels like it’s glaring at her. She swallows. This isn’t going to be good but she’ll have to power through it. And so she plasters a smile on as she walks back towards it leaving the rest of her things at the door. Every step she takes feels shakier than the last, unsteady like a newborn deer taking it's first steps.

She kneels in front of the statue once again and puts down the jacket in front of it and tries to be respectful about it, even if a little bit of her fear seeps through her voice.

“Thank you, but I can’t accept this.”

She gets back up, turns around, and walks back to the door.

She doesn’t even get halfway there when something hits her back again and flips over her head. A sputter leaves her lips as she pulls the jacket back into her arms. It’s her turn to glare at the statue now, a small growl of frustration in her throat.

She isn’t really _afraid_ , per se. Now, she’s just becoming annoyed.

“I _said_ I’m _sorry_ , but I _can’t_ -”

Something invisible pushes the jacket in her arms hard against her body and she stumbles slightly. The pressure doesn’t let up for about five long seconds before it disappears entirely. Her eyebrows furrow and she makes a very quick plan.

Three . . . two . . . one . . . now!

Sakura throws the jacket at the statue with all her might. And then she turns around and _books it_. 

Again, it’s thrown at her back, but she’s more prepared this time. She throws it into the air above her and keeps running, the door getting closer by the second, and she really wishes this place wasn't so big and empty. The jacket makes it a point to land on her head with a little more force than necessary, cutting off her thoughts. Whatever, she’s still more prepared. 

She throws it to the left, and now she’s _over_ halfway to the door. Almost there.

This time, when the jacket slams into her side, it knocks her off her feet and her path as she tumbles to the wall, far right and _way_ off her destination.

Another second of struggle before she gets it off and practically launches it back towards the statue, the jacket's sleeves flapping in the air as it sails. She makes a run for the door which has gotten much closer. Victory is close.

Her hand brushes the handles and the door _slams_ shut, her grocery bag skidding across the floor as her ratty jacket falls off of it. Sakura freezes, swallows, and is pretty sure she almost pissed herself. _Shit_.

The next few moments are somewhat terrifying.

Something grabs her by the ankle of her left foot and drags her up and over to the center of the room so quick that she doesn’t get the chance to fear falling to the floor. Her body’s flipped right side up so quick it makes her dizzy and her feet get slammed onto the floor. The smoke from the statue is blowing out harder, thicker, and she can hear the new jacket rustling closer. 

And then it’s like her point of gravity gets shifted every which way and she feels like she’s going to vomit.

First, her right arm. It’s yanked over so hard she stumbles with it, her body becoming slanted as her legs tangle together. The jacket is there suddenly, and her arm is shoved through the sleeve, the fabric bunching against her neck.

Then her left arm. It pulls her by that arm to the other side so quickly that it _hurts_. And then the other jacket sleeve is forced onto it. And then she’d moved to stand up, everything going so fast she might as well be on a carnival ride.

The front of the jacket comes together, and it zips up. Hard. By the time it gets to the top, she’s pulled up off the ground by a few inches with the force of it, feet dangling uselessly. 

And then something grabs her by the hood, the door opening so hard it nearly flies off the hinges, and she’s pulled out so fast that her feet don’t even touch the floors again. 

They set her down, _surprisingly_ , gently, like a baby being put down to sleep. And the moment of _generous kindness_ is ruined by the door slamming shut in her face so hard that the air it pushes makes her hair fan out like a cape before settling.

She’s left in a haze before . . .

“Hey! HEY! My grocery bag! My bag is still in there! And my jacket! HEY!”

Sakura bangs her fists on the door and pulls at it’s handle while yelling. It doesn’t budge.

And then she hears a thud behind her. She whips around so fast her neck pops. She doesn’t want anymore . . . _things_ sneaking up on her.

There’s her grocery bag, on the dirt. She runs over to it, because dammit she has fragile things in there! Like eggs! And chips! Well, chips aren’t _too_ important, but still! Chips!

She crouches by it, opens it with maybe a bit too much force, and digs around in it to make sure everything is ok. And, well, it is. None of the eggs are cracked and the chips look okay but . . . wait a minute . . .

“Hey! Where the hell did my cookies go!?”

And there, again, those chuckles, and she looks up. The window at the very top of the building shuts hard the second she looks at it, the rest following suit, like a domino effect. Those fuckers stole her cookies. She huffs.

“You’re welcome . . .”

But she supposes that it’s her time to leave now. She’d _hate_ to overstay her welcome. _Especially_ with hosts like that.

She pulls her hood up, her hair already damp, picks up her bag, and begins to walk back to town. By the time she gets to the archway, the rain is practically gone. She can see people out and about, doing their business already.

She walks through it, the arch, and then it feels like a pleasant warmth settles into her bones. The only way she knows how to describe it is familial and familiar. Things look a little brighter. Behind her, the sound of bells and wind chimes, followed by laughter, this time more soft, endearing. Hm. Maybe those spirits back there weren't so bad. It was very kind of them to giver a new jacket when they didn't have to, after all.

It’s only when she finally gets to the town part of the border that problems start to arise again. People are looking at her, with awe, with surprise, disbelief. Some even look horrified. Their jaws are dropped, skin paled, and she doesn’t know why until an old woman calls out to her.

“You! Girl!”

Sakura pauses, looks over, points at herself, “Me?”

“Yes! You! Come over here!”

So she does, because she respects elders, even if she hates most of them.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

The old woman flails before finding her words, “How?”

Sakura grows confused, “”How” what?”

“How’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Well-well! Survive!”

“ . . . _Survive_? Ma’am, what are you talking about?”

The old woman stops talking, her eyes bulging out of her head, and then she asks the strangest question.

“You don’t know?”

Sakura tilts her head, then shakes it, “Know what?”

“Th-the legend!”

Sakura is starting to get fed up, “Ma’am, I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t know anything about the new civilian legends, I’m a shinobi, have been for years now. What’s this “legend” about?”

The woman flails again, “Oh! Well! Uh, well, most of the Uchiha homes are too run down to live in, see? Well, all except one. The biggest building. At the center of it all, housing the old shrine that belonged to the family. But! No one dares to go in there, not even for shelter! Like you did! There’s only one reason you’d be coming from that direction after all!”

“ . . . Why . . . why does no one stay there?”

“It’s haunted! All who’ve went in never came out!”

“ . . . Really?”

“Yes! Really! Why, I knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a _girl_ who knew a guy that went in there one night! And that night, we heard the most _terrible_ screams! And we never saw him the next day! And he was one of the _many_ disappearances!”

Sakura pales at that, remembering what happened to her, “So you’re saying . . . I could have . . . died?”

“Yes!”

Sakura recalls how’d they’d thrown her around like a ragdoll with hardly any effort. So if she’d been anything but respectful . . . even the slightest bit _disrespectful_. . . if they hadn’t simply _forced_ the jacket on her, if they’d chosen _another_ route to deal with her rejection . . . then . . . then-!

Oh, that would have been the last time anyone ever saw her!

She shakes like a leaf, only a few words leaving her mouth as she stumbles away from the woman, who yells at her to stop and tell her how she lived to see the next day and s feels incredibly feint.

“Ah. I see. Thank you. Goodbye.”

Looks like being respectful had its perks, _especially_ if it worked in life or death situations.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, whatever you got, I'll take em!


End file.
